Everlasting Warmth
by EvergreenDreamweaver
Summary: Blair decides to surprise Jim with an unexpected present.


Disclaimer: I do not own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Originally written around 2005.

EVERLASTING WARMTH

by EvergreenDreamweaver

Blair Sandburg signed, enveloped, sealed, and stamped. He applied the stick-on return address label, added the paid bill to the small stack on the table, and leaned back with a satisfied sigh. _There. Done. And…_ He glanced at his checkbook, and was gratified to see a surprisingly comfortable balance still there, even after subtracting all the checks he'd just written!

He wasn't accustomed to having money in his checkbook – at least, not money that _stayed_ there! Money that came in, in the form of grants or scholarships, and then disappeared as quickly for tuition and books and fees – that, he'd been used to. Occasional surplus from tutoring, or publishing an article, maybe, which also disappeared as rapidly as it had arrived. But money that appeared in the account, compliments of his Cascade Police Department salary's automatic deposit, every other Friday…that was taking some getting used to!

Of course, there were different sorts of bills to pay now, too. No more tuition payments, but those were offset and then some, by the looming threat of student loan repayment. Clothing was costing more, now that he no longer could skulk around in torn jeans and faded flannel. A police detective might be allowed to wear casual clothing on the job, but you weren't supposed to look like one of the street people in the parks, either. Durable jeans, and khakis and sweaters and sport shirts and the occasional dressy slacks and a very good-looking sports jacket, and ties for court testimony, and expensive running shoes, and a pair of ankle boots that he'd yearned for for literally _years_ – yes, part of that very nice salary was disappearing for such things. Even though he'd purchased the sports jacket at the Men's Wearhouse for a ridiculously low price, and the boots had been discounted 70% as well. His dry-cleaning bills had increased considerably, too.

Rent – people usually had to pay rent, or make house payments, and he'd been no exception…except he had a sneaking suspicion that although Jim _accepted_ his meager rent checks, he'd never used them. He deposited them; the money left Blair's account – but Blair had never seen any indication that it was used elsewhere. Jim did easily accept his contributions to the utility bills and groceries with no arguments …. Blair did wonder just what Jim was _doing_ with those rent checks, though!

And his car now boasted a motor that ran honey-sweet, a heavy-duty battery, four new tires, and a heater that poured out warm air on cue. After all, it was occasionally used on the job now, if not as often as Jim's pickup truck, and it had to be kept in good running order. That meant more gasoline consumption, but at least he got better mileage than _Jim_ did! Blair smiled. The addition of a police-band two-way radio, and a siren and a detachable 'bubblegum' light to a classic Volvo sedan was a constant, quiet source of amusement to him.

His medical insurance bills had actually decreased, once he had become a member of the police department. So that didn't count. And car insurance had never been very high, for such an old vehicle as that Volvo!

The sudden shaking of the glass doors and windows of the loft and the smacking sound of raindrops battering them, made him glance up at the skylights with a reflexive shiver. Cascade's weather had been going above and beyond the norm, for the past week, with torrents of cold rain and buffeting winds, every day. Of course, it _was_ November, and to be expected, but that didn't make it any more pleasant to be out in. He was suddenly very appreciative of the warm, cozy, protecting loft.

But – Blair refocused his gaze on his work, smiling once more – the outcome of all this mental meandering was still the same – there was money left in his checking account. More would be coming in in another week. He could actually spend some money just for _fun_! Just because he _wanted_ to! It seemed downright unbelievable.

 _What would I like to do with it? Just save it and let it pile up?_ He frowned thoughtfully. _That's no fun._ He'd started a 401K through work, but he could always add extra to it, or start a separate account. But something inside of him yearned to _spend_ it – some of it. Not necessarily foolishly, but…for something he wanted just because he wanted it. _Now what would be a good thing to get?_ He looked around the loft consideringly. _Books? CD's? What?_ Suddenly, another thought occurred, and the sea-blue eyes glowed with warmth. _Not something for_ _me_ _._ _Something for Jim. Or…something for Jim and me both._

 _###_

The jingle of keys in the door lock brought Blair out of his reverie, and he looked at his watch in surprise. It was already nearly ten o'clock !

"Jim! Sorry, I got sort of involved, and lost track of the time! Man, you are soaked!" Sandburg got to his feet as his roommate carefully locked the door behind him and moved to shed his outer garments and store his firearm.

"Yeah," the Sentinel grunted, bending to untie his sneakers and tugging them off. "It's damn nasty out there; I'm wet all the way through, just from walking from the truck. I had to park halfway down the block. Is there some dinner left…?"

"Plenty." Blair moved to the kitchen and pulled a plastic-wrap-covered plate from the refrigerator. "I just need to zap it in the microwave. How'd the stakeout go? I'm sorry I couldn't be there, but the DA didn't call me for testimony until nearly the end of the day – and I have to go back tomorrow morning."

"Went okay – nothing so far. Rafe and H can deal with it tonight. Joel isn't you, but he's an okay substitute on a stakeout – occasionally!," Jim said, with a reassuring smile at his partner.

"You have to go back on stakeout tomorrow, then?" Sandburg paused, plate in hand.

"Uh-huh. But our captain is graciously allowing me to have a few hours' sleep time." He flexed his shoulders and grimaced. "I hate sitting around all day and night like that. I ache in places I didn't know I had places. I hope you didn't use up all the hot water, Chief, because I need a hot shower in the very worst way!"

"Go ahead, then – don't sit around in those wet clothes. I'll wait until you're out to heat up your dinner."

Blair cleared off the dining table, putting away his checkbook and other paperwork, and setting the bills to be mailed on the small table near the door. He microwaved Jim's dinner when he heard the shower being turned off, and set the plate on the table, along with silverware, a napkin, and two opened bottles of beer – one for Jim, and one for himself. Just as he finished putting them down, Jim emerged from the bathroom clad in warm sweats.

"Ahhhh!" The older detective slid into his chair, picked up his beer, and downed a third of the bottle in a couple of gulps. Sighing with contentment, Jim set about eating his belated dinner. Blair sat down too, sipping from his own bottle, and watched as his partner's ice-blue eyes shut, opened, shut again, and were determinedly forced open.

"Jim – man, head up to bed. You're gonna be doing a face-plant into your tuna casserole in about ten seconds, otherwise!" he said, after a few minutes of observing his roommate's efforts to stay awake.

"But I'm hungry." Ellison shoved another forkful into his mouth and chewed resolutely, his eyes drifting closed once more.

"Jim – you're falling asleep in the middle of a bite!" Blair reached out and stilled the fork, afraid Jim was going to stab himself in the face with it.

"Just give me…another couple of minutes…."

Three minutes later, Jim scraped the last of his casserole from his plate and resolutely swallowed it.

"Okay, tough guy, you ate it all – now will you give up and go to bed?" Blair demanded mock-severely.

Capitulating without further argument, Jim nodded. "Didn't realize I was…so beat," he murmured. He pushed back his chair, and with a languid half-wave goodnight, trudged up the stairs. Sandburg heard the creak of bedsprings and a long sigh – and then silence, with only an occasional soft snoring sound to indicate that the exhausted Sentinel was even alive!

Deciding that an early night might be the best thing for him, too, Blair cleaned up the kitchen, checked the locks and windows, did his usual nightly toothbrush routine, turned out the lights, and retired to his room. But as he settled into bed, his thoughts again ranged to the possibilities of things he might purchase. For Jim – for himself…for them.

#####

The next week was atypical for the Ellison-Sandburg team in that they were working separately a good deal of the time. Blair was stuck in court day after day, as the defense attorney kept coming up with requests for delays, excuses, and questioning, re-questioning, and cross-questioning of witnesses. Jim, on the other hand, was stuck on stakeout, keeping constant surveillance of a gun-runner's known associates and favorite haunts, 24/7. Blair joined him as soon as he was free, most evenings, but couldn't stay late and still attempt to be coherent on the witness stand the next day.

Blair worried about Jim zoning or spiking or getting hurt if action suddenly ensued while he wasn't there. Jim, knowing full well that courtrooms weren't necessarily the safest places, worried over Blair's welfare, and fumed over the fact that he had to be so careful and discreet about using his senses when working with someone other than his Guide. They missed each other, missed working together – and they were both bored nearly out of their minds!

"I swear, if we don't finish up this trial – or at least, if I don't finish up with my part of it – tomorrow, I'm going to stage a sit-down strike or something!" Blair took a reheated bowl of soup from the microwave and set it in front of Jim, then put his own in to heat. "This has been the week from hell – or maybe it's purgatory. Isn't that at least supposed to be temporary? If it was hell, I suppose I'd have been turned into a court reporter." For once, he'd stayed up late enough to talk to Jim when he came home, and join him in his belated dinner.

Jim drank half a glass of water in two gulps, and picked up his spoon, starting to eat his soup. "I'll see your purgatory and raise you, Chief. At least you're working in daylight, and you're able to move around and talk to people!"

"You're in daylight part of the time, and you can talk to people! You've got Joel there – or Henri. All the time."

Jim groaned theatrically. "If I have to listen to any more of Brown's pathetic jokes, you may be visiting me in the slammer," he warned. "Murder 1."

"Nah, don't worry, it would be justifiable homicide," Blair assured him, grinning. "I'd hire you the best lawyers; you'd get off. Look, if there is any justice in the world – no pun intended – I might finish up in court early enough tomorrow to join you on stakeout by mid-afternoon, and then stay for the whole time. No more Joel…no more H's jokes. Suit you?" He started in on his own soup.

"Chief, if I wasn't so tired, and didn't ache so much, I'd grovel on the floor and kiss your feet."

"Better save the groveling; I can't promise I'll be there, but I'll sure try." Sandburg knew _intellectually_ just how frustrated Jim was over this situation, and knew _instinctively_ how much the Sentinel needed the steady grounding provided by the continued presence of his Guide. Well then, time for a little grounding right now, since he hadn't been able to be there all the time on stakeout. "Give me a few, to finish eating, and then you stretch out on the floor; no groveling required. I'll give you a back rub."

"Let me grab a fast shower first," Ellison amended the plan, and finished off his bowl of soup in a few hasty slurps.

###

Jim's shower turned out to be anything _but_ fast, and Blair was beginning to worry that his partner had zoned, before the water finally shut off. When Jim came out of the bathroom looking slightly blue around the edges, Blair found out he'd nearly been right!

"I think I fell asleep standing up," Ellison admitted sheepishly, easing himself down onto the blankets Blair had spread on the living-room floor. "I didn't realize it until the water turned cold on me!"

"Shit, Jim! That's so not good!"

"Don't worry about it, I'm okay. So I got a little chilly – it was probably good for me. At least it woke me up!"

"I doubt that it was the least bit good for you, ya big dope—" Sandburg chided – and broke off as the answer to his question _'What could I get for Jim? And for me?'_ suddenly came clear in his mind. _Water heaters!_ _Gotta start researching hot water heaters!_

"Chief? You okay?" Startled by his Guide's abrupt silence, Jim twisted around to check on his welfare. "Sandburg?"

"Uh…yeah, yeah, I'm good – I'm fine." Blair blinked and shook his head slightly. _Think about all this later!_ "Lie down and relax, okay?"

#####

Detective Sandburg was excused from further testimony at 2:25 p.m. the next day. He stepped out of the courtroom and immediately called his partner. "Jim? I'm good to go, for the stakeout, assuming it's still on."

"Thank God," Ellison muttered, swinging his chair around to shield his conversation from the other occupants of the bullpen. "I couldn't have taken another night of it, no way in hell, Chief. Go on home, and I'll pick you up around 4 o'clock ." Ending the call, Jim signaled Joel Taggart. "Joel? Sandburg's free to go on stakeout with me tonight; you're off the hook!"

###

Blair insisted it was just coincidence. Jim caught himself wondering if there was some weird shamanic influence that his Guide exerted without realizing it. Simon attributed it to 'Sandburg's ability to attract trouble.' The other Major Crimes detectives were convinced that it was the Ellison-Sandburg lucky streak manifesting once again. Whatever it was, just after ten p.m., when Jim and Blair were considering turning things over to their relief team, calling it a night and going home, the elusive gun-runner Eustis Vickery showed up at his girlfriend's house at long last.

Making sure the arrest warrant was safe in his jacket pocket, Blair alerted the backup team, while Jim was moving as silently as his black jaguar spirit guide towards the house. Sandburg then followed his partner, gun drawn. Locating Jim, he flanked the Sentinel as they crept into position, one on either side of the front door. Jim paused, cocking his head and listening to conversation from within, then rapped sharply on the door.

There was no answer, although Jim could hear panicked whispers from the interior. He rapped again, and barked "Police! Open up!"

Still no response.

Hoping their backup was situated behind the house in case Vickery bolted out the back, Jim hand-signaled 'I'll go in low, you high, move on three,' and silently counted it down. At 'three," Ellison kicked the door open, and went through in a low, rolling dive, ending up prone on the floor, with Sandburg crouched right behind him, both of them with weapons trained steadily on their quarry.

"CASCADE POLICE! FREEZE! Don't move, Vickery, you're under arrest!"

#####

 _Why do they always try to run? Why can't they ever just surrender peacefully and give up and let us take them in? OTHER cops get cooperative perps….Why do Jim and I get the runners every damn time?_

Wearily, Blair propped his head on his hand, leaning one elbow on his desk, and typing abstractedly with the other hand on the computer keyboard. It was nearly one a.m., but the end was in sight at last. After a headlong chase through suburban back yards, over fences, across patios, and through little gardens and flowerbeds, Vickery had been trapped and subdued and apprehended. _Jim_ had managed to stay unscathed, other than being drenched by the relentless rain. Blair, on the other hand, now sported a sprained left wrist and a myriad of bruises on one hip, from making a bad landing off a fence top.

 _At least now all there is left is finishing up the preliminary report._ The full, detailed one – well, it was going to wait until some time tomorrow, no matter what. Jim had gone down to Booking, to make sure all the strings were tied up tight. _He should be back soon…._

"Hey, partner." As if Blair's thoughts had summoned him, Ellison's quiet voice poured soothingly over the younger man, and Sandburg looked up to see Jim standing beside him. "You about done here? Let's go home, huh?"

"Man, I am so down with that." Blair tried to summon a smile, but it died almost as it touched his lips. Slowly, wondering where all his vaunted energy had disappeared to, he reached for the computer mouse to save his work. To his surprise, Jim halted his movement, and did it for him, swiftly shutting down the machine.

"You're out on your feet, Chief. You're still wet. And those bruises have got to be stiffening up." Carefully, Jim levered Blair from the chair, keeping a firm grip on his upper arm. "Come on, you need a long, hot shower and about ten hours of sleep."

"Sounds good." Even to his own ears, Blair's voice sounded dead. He wondered how bad he sounded to the acute hearing of his Sentinel.

By the time they reached the loft, Blair was seriously contemplating skipping the hot shower and merely crashing on his bed in his clothes, but Jim was hearing none of it.

"Sandburg…no, Blair. Listen to me….Get in there and soak. You need it. Go on – use up every scrap of hot water if you need to."

"What about you?"

"I'm not in anywhere near the condition you are, Chief. I'll be fine." Jim headed for the kitchen and began digging in drawers to locate plastic bags and rubber bands. "Here, put a couple of these over that elastic bandage."

Standing beneath the near-scalding downpour, Sandburg let his aching muscles relax and his mind drift – and not much to his surprise, he found it drifting to the idea he'd had before. He now knew exactly what he wanted to do – it was just going to take some research – and some fancy footwork – and some help from Captain Banks!

#####

"You want me to WHAT?"

"I…um…I want you to send Jim out of town for a couple of days. And I don't want you to let me go with him," Blair faltered, casting an apprehensive glance up at Simon's incredulous face as the captain towered over him.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Sandburg, but haven't I been given holy hell every time I've even attempted to send one of you somewhere without the other, for the last five years?" Banks snapped. "I've had to sidestep and juggle and I don't know what all, to make sure that where Jim went, you went too. Now all of a sudden you're requesting that I send Jim away?" The incredulity disappeared, to be replaced by intense worry. "Sandburg…Blair – has something happened between you two? I thought everything was going well…."

"Everything is going well, Simon! We're fine, we're cool. I just – it's just – I need him to be gone for a couple of days, that's all."

Banks gave the young detective a sharp look over his gold-wire-rim glasses. "This wouldn't be some elaborate scheme to help your love-life along, or something, would it?" he grated. "Get Jim out of the loft for a weekend, and—"

"NO!" Sandburg flung up his hands in disgust and whirled about, to stalk away in high dudgeon. Abruptly, he whirled back. "Look, if you won't, you won't. I'll figure out some other way to handle it, okay? I'm sorry I asked!" Again he spun on his heel and headed for the door.

He was almost out before Simon recovered enough to react. "Sandburg! Hold on! Blair, wait!"

Blair halted. "Yes, Captain?" he said icily, without turning.

"I'm sorry, what I said was uncalled for," Banks said quietly. "I apologize. Please, Blair, come back and let's try this again."

Slowly, Sandburg turned, eyeing his captain warily. "Captain, I'm serious about this, and it's not a prank and it's got nothing to do with my…social life."

"I know, Sandburg, I know." He gestured to a chair. "Sit down. Now let me get this straight. You want me to get Jim out of town because…?

Reluctantly, Sandburg took the indicated seat. "Simon, it's better that you don't know the details; what you don't know, you can't accidentally tell." Blair's sea-blue eyes sparkled a little, a combination of amusement and annoyance. "Look, all I want to do is surprise Jim with something! Do you have any idea at all how hard it is to surprise him? A Sentinel? A Sentinel who's a detective, and nosy as hell, to boot?"

Simon huffed out a laugh. "I hadn't thought about it all that much before, but I can see your point, Sandburg. I know we'd never have pulled off the Officer of the Year awards for him without your expertise and connivance."

Blair tilted an eyebrow, still not completely mollified. "Maybe it doesn't have to be sending him away," he pondered. "Simon – could you take him away? Maybe fishing?"

"And just how likely is Jim Ellison going to be to go fishing without you along?" Banks inquired skeptically. "You're as much a part of his fishing trips now as his fly rod!"

"I could try to come up with some excuse that I couldn't go, at the last minute," Blair offered. "Although it's harder, now that I don't have Rainier as a convenient excuse."

"You could get sick…?"

Sandburg rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Simon, think about what you just said. If I say I'm getting sick, Jim would immediately cancel the trip and stay home to hover over me – believe me, I know this from experience!"

"True. But…maybe just a little sore throat, or something? Just enough that you don't want to spend days out in the weather if you don't have to?"

"Maybe." Blair sounded extremely doubtful. "But if I know Jim, he'll look down my throat with a flashlight to make sure it's not strep, or something! And then where would I be?"

"Well, steelhead season's on…" Banks mused. "I suppose he might go for it. When do you need him to be gone?"

"I don't know yet," Sandburg admitted. "I need to do a little more groundwork. I'll let you know." He got to his feet. "Simon? Thanks."

#####

"What are you working on so hard, Chief?" Sprawled lazily on the couch in front of the television, Ellison glanced over at his roommate, who was industriously tapping and clicking on his laptop at the kitchen table.

"Christmas shopping," Blair replied, hastily minimizing one screen and pulling up another he had in reserve – just in case Jim got curious enough to come over and kibitz.

"CHRISTMAS shopping?" Jim sounded incredulous. "But it's only November, and I've never seen you do any shopping until the third week of December!"

"Jim…" the Guide heaved a patient sigh. "Up until now, I never had the resources to do any shopping ahead of time. It was always scrabble and scrounge up to the last minute, ya know?"

"Oh." Ellison had the grace to turn pink and look slightly ashamed of himself. He hadn't thought of that.

"So, do you think Simon would like to be a member of the Cigar of the Month Club?" Blair clicked the mouse and surveyed his screen.

"Maybe – yeah, probably." Jim sounded slightly intrigued. "Hey, those things are usually pretty spendy – if it's too expensive, maybe we could go in on it together."

"Suits me – but don't expect me to do all your Christmas shopping for you, buddy!" Blair looked at the options available consideringly. "Come here, will ya? I need an opinion."

His partner obligingly got to his feet and ambled over to the table. He leaned over Blair's shoulder, staring at the screen images, then whistled in shock. "THAT much?"

"Uh-huh. You still want to split the cost?"

"Uh…yeah, but Simon had better appreciate this, that's all I can say!" Sticker-shock was making the Sentinel's blue eyes glaze slightly.

"There's a six-month option." Sandburg scrolled down, and Jim, reading the screen, heaved a relieved sigh.

"Let's go with that one, Chief, what say? I'm all for being generous, but there are limits!"

"Fine with me." Blair began to use the mouse with decision, and rapidly fill in blanks. When he finished, he looked up at Jim with a smile. "See? Christmas shopping the painless way. Anyone else you want to buy for?"

Ellison glanced at the TV, where an incredibly depressing Jags 'away' game was being broadcast, then back at the computer screen. He pulled out a chair and sat down. "Let me make a list…."

#####

 _Let this be a lesson to you, Sandburg…never,_ _ever_ _plan to lie to your Sentinel. It will only come back to haunt you, and you'll be punished severely!_ Blair sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his throat, making a vain attempt to soothe the inside by massaging it on the outside.

He'd thought he had everything worked out – they were scheduled to go steelhead fishing over a long weekend, and he'd claim to be coming down with a cold, at the last minute. He and Simon would convince Jim to go anyway, and Blair would stay home, to admit an installer, and supervise the placement of a brand-new, state-of-the-art, 'Never Run Out of Hot Water Again! Fits Anywhere!', tank-less water heater. The only flaw in the plan had manifested itself about 4:30 a.m. He really _did_ have a sore throat, and sneezes were beginning to be more and more frequent! He was being punished, he just knew it.

"Get a move on, Sunshine, Simon will be here to meet us in half an hour!" Jim's voice was downright exuberant, as was the rapid tattoo he beat on Blair's door.

Well, time to face the music. Blair got to his feet and straggled out of his room, still rubbing at his throat. Jim was heading towards the kitchen, where the coffee maker was emitting energetic burbling noises.

"Jim? I don't…I don't think I can go."

The Sentinel spun about, shocked. "What? What do you mean, you can't go? We've been planning this for—"

"I know, I know, but—" A convincing sneeze, fortuitously timed, cut off the words. "but I…I think I'm coming down with a cold." Blair sniffled miserably, attempted to swallow, and grimaced. "My throat hurts."

Jim's eyes narrowed. "This some kind of a joke, Sandburg?"

"No joke," Blair insisted. "I felt fine last night, but now…."

Ellison stepped closer to his partner and rested an assessing hand on his forehead. The keen, ice-blue eyes crinkled slightly, and Jim abruptly went from looking annoyed to looking concerned. "You are a little warm." Gently, he probed beneath Blair's jaw, noting the younger man's wince. "And that's tender? Let's see your throat, Chief." He tugged Blair toward the brighter lights of the kitchen.

Bleakly, Blair recalled his jesting words in Simon's office, as he obediently opened his mouth for Jim's intense scrutiny. It only took a few seconds. With a deep sigh, Ellison tapped Blair's chin, indicating he could close, and then wrapped an arm about his shoulders. "You picked a crummy time to get sick, partner."

"Tell me about it," Sandburg muttered.

"Better get back into bed," the Sentinel advised. "I'll call Simon."

"Whoa, waitaminute! You're not thinking of canceling the trip, are you?" Sore throat or not, Blair was already gearing up for the argument he anticipated. "Because if you are, just forget it, Ellison! Just because I can't go is no reason for you not to!"

"Chief, I don't want to leave you by yourself when you're sick—"

"Jim. It's a cold. Just a cold. I'll be fine; I just don't want to spend the next four days in a tent or standing in the middle of a stream in a November downpour! You don't have to stay here and hover over me, and if you do, I'll feel horribly guilty, man!" _Plus, you'll get in the way of the water-heater installation guy!_

Blair widened his eyes and looked up at his best friend with as soulful a gaze as he could manage. "I want you to go with Simon and have a good time and catch a bunch of steelhead and bring them home for me to eat!" He broke off, punctuating his stream of words with four sneezes in rapid succession. Jim stepped back, instinctively trying to avoid the sloppier aspects. "S-sorry, man…. Jim, you can't disappoint Simon!" Sandburg added artfully. "He's been looking forward to this, you know he has!"

Ellison blew out an exasperated chuff of air, but before he could reply, a knock on the loft door startled them both. Apparently Jim had been too involved in his conversation with Blair to notice Simon's approach and arrival! Glumly, he went to the door and opened it. "C'mon in, Simon."

"You two ready to go? Those fish aren't going to wait around all day for us…what's wrong? Why aren't you ready, Sandburg?" Banks looked at Blair, who obviously was the one holding up the parade.

"I'm not going," Blair rasped, and sneezed again. "I've got a cold."

"I'm thinking maybe I should stay home with him," Jim began once more, looking apologetically at his captain, but Blair cut him off, already in full spate:

"JIM! You are not going to stay home with me; it's a cold, I can deal, just go away and let me sleep all weekend, okay? I'll stay home and rest and sleep and drink Echinacea tea and watch television and by the time you get home on Monday, I'll be over the worst of it!" He sneezed again – violently. "'Scuse me."

"Bless you," Ellison said automatically.

Simon blinked, and looked from one detective to the other. "Kid's made some good points," he commented.

Outnumbered, Jim gave up. "All right, Chief, all right. But I'm taking my cell phone, and if you need me here, you call me – right? Promise?"

"I promise," Blair nodded fervently. "Go on, Jim, and have fun."

Still reluctant but out of ammunition to fight with, Jim picked up his fishing gear. "With just the two of us, Simon, do you want to take my truck or your car?"

"Let's take my car," Banks decided, and reached in his pocket for the keys, which he handed to Ellison. "Go ahead and load that stuff, Jim; I'll be down in just a minute."

Once the Sentinel had departed, Simon stepped closer to Blair, his eyes twinkling. "Nice acting job, Sandburg – you have ME convinced! How are you managing the sneezes – pepper?"

Blair eyed him sourly. "Who's acting?" he growled, and stifled another sneeze.

Simon's eyes widened with disbelief. "You mean you actually DO have a cold?" he hissed.

"Well, I have a sore throat and I'm sneezing my head off…I've only been a detective for less than a year, but I'd say that was fairly conclusive evidence!" Sandburg plopped onto the couch and buried his face in his hands.

Banks opened his mouth – and then closed it, shaking his head. After a moment, he walked over to the disconsolate Blair, and laid a consoling hand on his shoulder. "Tough break, kid – but still…."

"I know, I know. Be careful what you wish for, and all that…." Blair sighed.

###

It was difficult getting Jim to actually _leave_. Despite how anxious he was to get out of Cascade and go fishing with Simon, he felt despicable about deserting his obviously miserable partner and leaving him to his own devices for four days. Once all his gear was loaded in Simon's car, he shooed Blair back into bed, and insisted on searching out every cold remedy in the loft, to make sure his roommate was well supplied. He supervised Blair's use of Chloraseptic throat spray, and stood over the younger man while he downed some aspirin; he filled the tea kettle with water and got out a box of Echinacea tea bags. He kept returning to Blair's bedroom, to ascertain that his Guide was provided with plenty of tissues, pillows, and extra blankets.

At last, both partner and captain had had enough. Simon grasped his detective by the arm and firmly escorted him from his home and down to the waiting car, as Blair waved and called out increasingly hoarse-sounding farewells. A few minutes later, they drove off down the street, Simon at the wheel.

###

The hot water heater installation team was due to arrive at ten o'clock, Blair having scheduled it carefully to ensure that Jim and Simon would be well on their way by that time. Feeling slightly less sniffly and miserable, due to the various remedies Jim had insisted he try, he'd gone back to sleep for a couple of hours, finally rising about nine.

###

He shuffled to the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea, appreciating anew the fact that his roommate had left the tea kettle on low heat, and took it into the bathroom with him, sipping it cautiously. He turned on the water for his shower, and grinned exultantly _. YES!_ T _he very last shower with this water heater! YES!_ Defiantly, he took one of the longest showers he'd ever risked while living in the loft, reveling in the fact that it didn't matter in the least if he ran the thing stone-cold! Clean and warm at long last, he shaved, dried and combed out his hair, and then, feeling virtuous, fixed himself a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast.

To Sandburg's surprise – being familiar with the vagaries of delivery and installation personnel – the installers rapped on the loft's front door promptly at 10:03 . Blair admitted them, duly admired the large box containing his purchase, escorted them to the bathroom and indicated the small closet which housed the water heater. Then, as they seemed perfectly capable of doing their job without any supervision from him, he excused himself, retreated to the couch with his box of tissues and spray bottle of Chloraseptic, and happily dove back into one of Jim's recently-purchased spy/thriller novels.

#####

"Detective Sandburg? You're all set." One of the installers, whose name apparently was Curt, according to what was embroidered on his shirt pocket, stood in front of Blair, smiling. "We tested it, and everything seems to be working just fine, including the new shower head. That's a nice one; water-saving restrictor, and still with all those massage features and things. Here's your owner's manual and all the other paperwork." He handed Blair a folder of documents, and then one separate piece of paper. "You said you were paying on delivery, right? We're not billing you?"

"Right. Just let me get my checkbook." Blair wrote the check, with only the tiniest quiver at the amount, and handed it over. "Thanks, you guys; this is great."

"No problem. Enjoy it. Give us a call if you have any problems." The men took their leave. Blair locked the door after them, and then scampered to the bathroom to admire his new acquisition.

Now, if only it worked as well as the advertisements claimed…and Jim was pleased. _Oh please, let him like it – please!_

#####

"Chief? How're you feeling?"

Blair, who had been sound asleep on the living room sofa, where he'd spent a large part of the weekend, blinked his eyes open in wonderment. To his utter surprise, his Sentinel was leaning over the back of the couch.

"Jim? What're you doing here? It's Sunday…you aren't supposed to be back until tomorrow!"

His roommate grinned. "We caught our limit all three days, and ran out of room and ice to store any more, so we came home early. Sandburg, you missed a really great trip, the fish were fighting over the chance to grab our hooks!" A gentle hand ran through Blair's tangled curls. "Besides, I wanted to make sure you were doing okay. How's the cold?"

"I think I'm past the really icky part," Blair said. "It's moving into the coughing stage now – annoying as hell, but not nearly as disgusting. Thank your lucky stars you were gone, man! If you'd stayed through Monday like you were supposed to, I might have been pretty well over it."

Not entirely trusting his Guide's assurances, Jim was running his own assessment – checking for fever, listening to Blair's breathing and raspy voice, gently touching the sides of his throat to feel for swollen glands, noting the still-slightly-watery eyes and a nose chapped from much blowing. Apparently satisfied with his findings, he smiled down at his partner and patted his cheek.

"Well, I've seen you look better, but overall, I'd say that staying home and resting all weekend probably did the trick. And you've still got until Tuesday, before we have to be back at work."

"Let's see the fish," Blair requested, getting to his feet and heading for the front door, where a large ice chest sat on the floor. "Jim, we don't have room in the freezer for all these!"

"I think we do; I cut 'em into steaks and fillets on site, so they'd take up less room. Simon has a chest freezer, he's keeping most of them," his partner explained. "I only brought up what I thought we could handle here. We can freeze some, and have some fresh tonight – Chief, your taste buds are in for a treat!" He paused, suddenly looking doubtful. "You're feeling up to eating, aren't you?"

"Definitely. I've been living on tea and toast and oatmeal all weekend."

Evidently that wasn't _quite_ the right response, for Jim looked even more concerned. "Go back and lie down again; I'll put these away." Ellison gave him a little push towards the living room. "Then I want to get cleaned up; I smell like a three-day fishing trip!"

"Gee, I wonder why?" Blair murmured, and did as instructed. But inside, he was quivering with anticipation. _Very, very soon now…._ He hoped Jim wasn't picking up on his accelerated heartbeat, or if he did, would assume it was merely caused by the cold.

###

"Sandburg?"

Blair opened his eyes and tried for his best innocent expression. "Yes?"

"Why have we got a new shower head?" Ellison was towering over the sofa, clad only in his filthy fishing jeans, a towel slung over one bare shoulder.

"A new shower head? Oh. Well…I, um…I bought it."

"I thought you said you stayed home all weekend and took care of your cold, not went out buying plumbing fixtures! And why did you have to buy a new shower head? What did you do to the old one?" Jim looked both mystified and exasperated.

"I didn't do anything to the old one. And I didn't go out, it was delivered."

"Delivered? You had a shower head delivered?" Jim was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"It was – part of the package."

"The package?"

Blair squeezed his eyes shut. This was _not_ going the way he'd planned, at all! "Yeah, well, you see…I…sorta…I bought a present for the loft. Sorta. An early Christmas present, kinda."

Jim stopped looking pissed, and started looking worried again. He sat down on the couch next to his roommate, and once more reached a hand to his forehead. "Okay," he said soothingly, "You bought a Christmas present for the loft…a new shower head. Chief – Blair – just how sick WERE you this weekend?"

Sandburg groaned. "I wasn't delirious, if that's what you're insinuating. And the present isn't the shower head, it's…oh, hell. Never mind. Just….Go take your shower, Jim, and enjoy it. Forget the shower head, okay?" He would have retreated to his room, but with Jim sitting on the couch and blocking his escape, it was impossible. He did the next best thing, and threw an arm across his eyes, hiding from the Sentinel's puzzled stare.

Ellison didn't move. "I don't want to forget it, I want to know what's going on." He waited a beat, then nudged the younger man. "Sandburg?"

With great reluctance, Blair uncovered his eyes and sat up, but he still didn't meet his partner's probing gaze. "It was just supposed to be a surprise," he muttered, keeping his face averted. "It's in the closet in the bathroom, man…."

Still looking confused, Jim got up and strode towards the bathroom.

Blair trailed miserably behind, staring down at the floor, resolving never to try anything of this magnitude of stupidity again. _Stupid, stupid, Sandburg, you're a jackass.…I wonder if I could have them take it back, if Jim's totally furious about it? Never should have done it…after all, it's_ _Jim's_ _home, Jim's loft…._

"Blair?"

The single word penetrated Sandburg's self-absorbed gloom. He looked up into familiar ice-blue eyes which were uncharacteristically soft.

"Chief – you got…this?" _This_ was indicated by a wave of Jim's hand, toward the little closet containing the new water heater – adorned with an enormous red velvet bow, and a tag reading ' **Merry early Christmas; love, Blair'** **.** "This is one of those unlimited hot water – Sandburg, I've looked at these; this must've – Blair, this would have cost you a fortune!" The Sentinel looked stunned.

"Not that much." Blair was back to studying the patterns of the bathroom tile. "I'm sorry if you don't like it—"

"Don't like it? Why wouldn't I like it?" Jim sounded honestly perplexed. "I'm confused as hell, Sandburg, but that doesn't mean I don't like it!"

"I didn't mean to…presume, you know? I mean – it's your place, and—" Blair paused to sniffle and blow his nose, which struck him as particularly mortifying at the moment. Jim would probably think he was breaking down in tears, instead of merely suffering from this damned cold!

"Okay, stop right there." Jim held up both hands in a shushing gesture. "First off, and most important, it's OUR place, not my place. Ours. Yours and mine. Equally. If you want to buy a present for your own home, well, that's between you and your bank account."

"I just wanted to surprise you with something really nice," Blair sighed.

"Oh, you've surprised me, all right – my God, but you surprised me!" Jim turned back to the ribbon-bedecked rectangle, and carefully removed the bow, smoothing the velvet with one finger. With a teasing smile, he plopped it onto his Guide's straggling curls, then encompassed Blair in a hard hug. "Thank you, Chief. It's incredible. I can't believe you did it. I've wanted one of these for a long time."

"You really like it?" Blair made a grab at the bow, as it slid off his head.

"'Like' is hardly a strong enough word to describe it," Jim chuckled. "Try 'overwhelmed'. I assume you've tried it out?" He loosened his grasp enough to let Blair escape, but kept an arm over his partner's shoulder. "Is it as good as they claim?"

Blair nodded energetically. "It's awesome! Try it, Jim, go ahead and try it! Stay in as long as you want to!" He shut the door to the closet, and gave his partner a little push in the direction of the bathtub, then headed for the door. "I'll get out of your hair and give you some privacy to play with your new toy, man."

Jim stretched out one hand and snagged a soft handful of curls, tugging just hard enough to keep Blair in place. "Some day I want to hear how you managed to pull this off, Sandburg," he growled, low. "And I can see I'm going to have to come up with something pretty spectacular for Christmas presents, to keep up with you now!"

"Jim, man, no, it's not supposed to be a competition—" Blair began, appalled, then broke off, starting to laugh. "All right, you're teasing, I get it."

 _You'll get it, all right,_ Jim mused, still trying to wrap his mind about the magnitude of Blair's 'Christmas gift to the loft.' _You'll get it, you darned impulsive, loving, crazy-generous little imp. If I can figure out anything that you want, after this…you'll get it, if it's in my power._ Aloud, all he said was: "Scram, Junior, and let me take my shower in peace!" The End


End file.
